


Anchored

by imaginary_golux



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blindfolds, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Praise Kink, unrepentant smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt: after a long, arduous mission involving plenty of sensory overload, Poe is tied down and blindfolded and given exactly the sort of slow, sensuous loving he needs to bring him back to earth.</p><p>And later Finn and Rey also need to be snuggled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Poe comes stumbling into the room they share, bone-deep exhausted and still too jittery to sleep, hair still wet from the shower Pava bullied him into taking, and Finn’s strong arms catch him, pull him gently off-balance until he’s got his face buried in the curve of Finn’s neck and his arms looped around Finn’s waist and Finn is curled around him, shoulders blocking out the world. It’s - it’s only the tiniest fraction of what Poe needs right now, but it’s a start, a _good_ start, and Poe trusts his weight to Finn’s sturdy form and nuzzles against Finn’s smooth skin and makes a little helpless purring noise when Finn starts petting his hair very gently.

Rey’s nimble hands make short work of stripping Poe’s flight suit off - he shifts a little to help, lets her tug it off his arms and lifts his feet so she can get the legs off - and then of the rest of his clothing. Finn covers Poe’s eyes gently when Poe has to lean away to let Rey pull his shirt off, so the blessed darkness behind Poe’s eyes is never interrupted; and then Rey loops a folded scarf carefully around Poe’s head, covers his eyes completely and ties it carefully so as not to snag Poe’s hair, and Poe just sags into Finn’s arms, blind and exhausted and wanting.

Finn chuckles, very softly, the sound more felt than heard, and tips Poe carefully down onto the wide bed they all share. Poe sprawls out, inelegant and graceless, and his lovers nudge him into the middle of the mattress before Rey carefully, gently seizes one wrist and ties it to the bedpost as Finn does the same on the other side. They leave his legs free - well, he doesn’t use his legs much, flying. Hands, though, those have been clenched on the yoke of his X-Wing for - too long, even for him it’s been too long - and they’re still curled like he can feel cool metal under them. It’s Rey, he thinks, fingers cool and delicate on his wrist, who nudges his hand open, places warm sweet kisses on his palm, brushes her own fingers over his just barely light enough to feel, until his hand is open and trembling, no longer clenched and tense at all, and she smiles against his palm, licks a kiss along his life line and brushes another over the soft skin of his wrist where the pulse beats still too fast.

She squirms around to get at his other hand, and Finn leans down and kisses Poe, long and slow and sweet, the sort of deep drugging kisses that make Poe weak in the knees at the best of times, and Poe feels a little bit like he’s melting into the bed, the sheets cool and soft beneath him, Rey and Finn’s mouths warm and wet and perfectly distracting. Finn kisses him until Poe is moaning softly and continuously, until Rey has coaxed both of Poe’s hands to limp immobility, open and vulnerable against the pillows, until the only tension left in Poe’s body is his cock hard against his stomach, and even that seems somehow distant, unimportant compared to the necessity of Finn kissing him again - again - again.

“Good,” Rey murmurs in his ear, low and soft and husky, and takes Finn’s place so seamlessly Poe doesn’t even have time to whimper at the loss of Finn’s lips - and oh, Rey is fiercer, her kisses have teeth, but tonight those teeth are gentle, she bites Poe’s bottom lip so softly, just the faintest edge of sharpness, just enough to make Poe shiver with desire, with surrender. They are warriors in their own rights, Poe’s beautiful lovers, and yet tonight all their sharp edges are blunted to keep him safe.

Finn kisses his way down Poe’s throat, slow and easy, lingering to suck a livid bruise into the curve of Poe’s shoulder where it _will_ show in any of the casual shirts Poe favors off-duty, where it will proclaim Poe’s allegiance to anyone who wants to see, and Poe lets Finn tilt his head back, bares the helpless line of his throat and is rewarded with soft murmurs of appreciation: “So good, Poe, you’re so good for us.”

And Finn moves on down Poe’s chest, soft kisses and warm fingers stroking everywhere, and Rey kisses Poe and kisses him and kisses him, keeps him pinned down with nothing but her sweet mouth on his. Poe doesn’t _want_ to move, doesn’t want to be anywhere but here, here with Finn’s warm tongue exploring one of his nipples while Finn’s clever fingers toy with the other, here with Rey’s sharp teeth so gentle as she kisses Poe breathless, here with his lovers where he does not have to be Commander Dameron or Black One or the best pilot in the Resistance but only Poe. He needs do nothing but lie here and be loved.

He floats, a little, mind going hazy and far-away as Finn moves lower, brushes warm kisses across Poe’s stomach, ignores Poe’s desperate erection in favor of spreading Poe’s legs and pressing soft lips to the softer skin of Poe’s inner thigh, the sensitive crease between leg and hip. Poe shivers, lets his legs fall where Finn puts them, sprawled out wide and vulnerable on the cool sheets. Finn’s hands are gentle as he strokes down Poe’s shins, runs his thumbs firmly over the soles of Poe’s feet hard enough not to tickle, soft enough not to hurt, leaves Poe’s legs sprawled wide around his shoulders as he curls around and licks a single wet stripe up Poe’s cock.

Poe’s too relaxed to do anything more than moan a little louder into Rey’s gentle kisses. He can’t arch up against Finn’s mouth - even if he wanted to, Finn’s broad hands are spanning his hips, gentle and heavy, pinning Poe to the bed, to the world, to reality. Poe’s not out in the endless blackness of space anymore, the cold darkness of the void between the stars - and Poe loves it there, he does, he’d fly forever if he could, but he loves this too, this warm darkness behind the scarf that smells of Rey, the gentle touches of his lovers anchoring him as surely as gravity.

Finn has gotten very good at giving blowjobs in the months they’ve been together, Poe and his beautiful young lovers, and tonight he takes his time, licks slow and exploratory over every inch of Poe’s cock, sucks him down a centimeter at a time and swallows around his mouthful and hums approval at Poe’s moans of helpless desire. Rey laughs against Poe’s lips when he moans, kisses him long and slow and drugging-sweet until his moans are a continuous thrum in the air around them, filling the room with the sound of his pleasure.

Poe’s not entirely sure how long his lovers draw this out - his time-sense is usually very good, but when he’s like this, pinned down and helpless and blind beneath them, he loses count of seconds, misplaces entire minutes. It could be ten minutes or two hours before Finn finally, gently wrings Poe’s orgasm from him, leaves him panting his gratitude into Rey’s mouth.

Poe manages to stay awake just long enough to feel the ropes around his wrists give way, and then the sleep which so eluded him before comes up and snatches him under into blissful, warm, Rey-and-Finn-scented darkness.

*

(“Hang on, let me get the blindfold...there we go.”

“Scootch, I’ve got a blanket. There. Get the lights?”

“Sure. Water’s by the bed.”

“Thanks. Left shoulder or right?”

“I’ll take left. Mmm, I’ve missed this.”

“Yeah. G’night.”

“G’night.”)


	2. Chapter 2

When Finn gets back from his mission, he racks his blaster and nods to his companions and goes back to the room he shares with Rey and Poe, hands shaking a little with the belated aftermath of killing Stormtroopers - faceless, blank-masked enemies he knows as well as he knows his own skin. And Rey and Poe are waiting for him, eyes full of concern and love.

Rey catches his face in her hands and kisses him, long and sweet, radiating love and affection so strongly that it shivers down to Finn’s bones, and that’s enough to keep Finn standing still while his lovers strip him down with gentle hands. The belt goes first, its various pouches unclipped and stacked neatly on a shelf, the belt itself coiled beside them. Rey checks his knife over as carefully as she does her own before she resheathes it and puts it away. Then the boots, and Finn can’t help quirking a smile as Poe kneels gracefully at his feet to unlace them. Then the uniform, mud-splattered and with a new rip on one leg where Finn had gone to his knees in a thornbush to grab one of his comrades out of the line of fire; Rey tosses it into the hamper, the Force assisting the throw when it falls a little short. Finn stands there in nothing but his boxers while his lovers look him over, checking carefully for injuries, and brush gentle kisses over the few scratches he’s accumulated.

And then Rey nudges his boxers down, and Finn steps out of them and into Poe’s warm embrace, lets himself be coaxed down onto the bed between his lovers, cocooned in warmth and affection.

This is what he always wanted, back when he couldn’t have it: skin on skin, the warmth of human contact letting him know that he is _real_ , that he matters, that there are other people here who care about him, and now he’s almost glutted with it, Rey in front of him and Poe behind him, surrounding him, Poe’s knees tucked into the backs of his own and Rey’s breasts pressed against his chest and both of them kissing him, Rey’s lips on his and Poe brushing kisses over his shoulders, the nape of his neck where it’s bare and vulnerable, the curve of his ear.

Poe starts rubbing his shoulders gently, and Finn rolls to let him have more room to work, ends up sprawled half atop Rey with his face buried in her loose hair on the pillow; it tickles a little, but it smells like Rey and home and safety, and Finn goes limp as her hand joins Poe’s, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders where he’s carried the responsibility for half a dozen other soldiers, the weight of his blaster and the gravity of his choices. Their hands find every sore spot, every tense muscle, and Finn relaxes more and more into the soft pressure of their hands, the warmth of their affection.

“How’d it go?” Rey murmurs some uncounted time later, scratching gently at his scalp with short, blunt nails. Poe’s up on his knees behind Finn, hands stroking long and slow down Finn’s back, and Finn purrs with it for a little while before he answers.

“No casualties,” he replies at last, muffled by the pillow and Rey’s hair. “Objective acquired.”

“Not quite what I asked,” Rey says, softly, and kisses Finn’s ear. Finn sighs. He knows what she’s really asking, and he doesn’t really want to think about it, about how easy it is to aim and fire and fire again, to leave his former comrades as little heaps of shattered armor on the ground, to lead his new comrades through the patterns he could do in his sleep, through the holes in the First Order’s defenses and straight to their goals, unerring as his blaster bolts and just as deadly.

“...Hard,” Finn admits. “But...it needed to be done.”

“I am never going to stop being in awe of how kriffing brave you are,” Poe says quietly, and slides down to plaster himself along Finn’s back, warm and heavy and perfect. Finn hums his pleasure into the pillow beneath his face.

“Our beautiful, brave sweetheart,” Rey agrees, and the words are as warm as the touch of their hands, and as welcome. “You push yourself so hard, and you do so well.”

“You shine in the darkness,” Poe says quietly. “Your troops would follow you into hell. You’re strong and brave and sweet and utterly perfect, dear heart.”

“And we love you,” Rey adds, kisses his cheek softly. “So much.”

Finn clings to her a little harder, basking in words and warmth alike.

“What do you need tonight, dear heart?” Poe murmurs in his ear. “Just this? Or - something more?”

Finn thinks about it. He could just fall asleep here, safe in their arms, in the warm of their affection - he’s done it before. They wouldn’t mind, either, any more than he minds giving them what _they_ need when they need it. They’d hold him through the night, through the inevitable nightmares, and Rey’s fingers would soothe the worry from his forehead and Poe’s weight would anchor him to here and now, and he’d wake up smiling in the morning.

But - no. He’s not quite that tired yet.

“More,” he says softly, into Rey’s soft hair, and Poe chuckles, kisses his shoulder and rolls away briefly, rolling back before Finn’s back can grow cold.

“Come on, love,” Rey says, coaxes Finn over atop her properly, spreads her legs and lets him sink into place between them, face still hidden in her hair. She’s wet and ready for him - but then, it’s more than likely she and Poe took the opportunity while they were waiting for him to please each other, and the mental image of Poe on his knees between Rey’s spread thighs, clever mouth wringing moans from her, is enough to make Finn moan in his own turn, press slow and easy into her until their hips meet and she sighs with pleasure.

“That’s good,” she tells him, hoarse and sweet, and then Poe moves to kneel over both of them, slides his slicked cock between Finn’s close-pressed thighs, and Finn shivers, presses forward into Rey and clenches his legs a little closer together to make Poe moan low and desperate in his ear, and yes - this was what he needed.

They find an easy rhythm, slow and sweet and languid, no urgency to it, and then Poe somehow gets a hand down between Rey and Finn, his thumb unerring on her clit. Rey comes first, sighing long and low in Finn’s ear and clenching around him, and Finn follows her over the peak, is vaguely aware of Poe shaking in pleasure atop him.

Poe has a warm washcloth waiting, of course, cleans his lovers with gentle hands, and then Finn ends up curled between his lovers, Rey soft and warm in his arms and Poe heavy and solid behind him, floating in pleasure and affection and love.

It is exactly what he needed, and Finn falls asleep with a smile on his face, warm and safe in his lovers’ arms.


	3. Chapter 3

When Poe or Finn get back from combat, they want contact, want skin-on-skin and soft words and gentle touches, want to know that their lovers are there beside them. Rey is different. When she gets back from war, she wants to be alone.

She likes the smallest bathing room in the base, a little tiny room no bigger than her old AT-AT with a deep tub in it just large enough for one person - two if they’re friendly. She hadn’t ever had a bath, that she remembers, before she came to the Resistance, but now that she knows what it’s like to soak herself clean in blood-hot water, she can’t bear to be streaked with dirt and blood any longer than is absolutely necessary.

When she gets back from a battle, battered and weary and sore and exhausted, she closes herself in the bathing room and runs the tub as hot as she can stand it, slides in to sit on the contoured ledge and closes her eyes and lets her tired body rest while her mind slips into meditation, into the warm embrace of the Force which hums around her.

She counts the people in the base, brushing against the Force which makes them up and surrounds them, checking that all her friends are safe and well: Master Luke in his preferred isolation, serene on a hilltop; General Leia among her officers; Jess Pava and Snap fussing over their X-Wings in the hangar; BB-8 and R2-D2 and C-3PO bickering companionably in a corridor; Chewbacca tending to the _Falcon_ ’s recalcitrant engine; Doctor Kalonia settling her patients in the medbay; on and on until she has counted and accounted for each of the people she has come to care about.

And then she draws her awareness in again, closer to her body where it basks in warm water and blessed, peaceful isolation, to the corridor outside the bathing room, where two beloved figures stand, guarding her door and her privacy. Rey does not lock the door to this room; they could join her, if they needed to. But Finn and Poe stand sentinel outside, backs to the door and shoulders brushing, waiting with infinite patience for her to finish her meditation and her bath and emerge, ready at last to deal with other people’s presence.

They are her safety, her guardians; Rey, who has never trusted her life to another before, trusts them with everything she is. While they stand outside her door, she is as safe as though behind walls of durasteel. She can sit here, immobile in her warm bath, her weapons all the way across the room, eyes closed and hands limp in her lap, and know that even if there _was_ someone on this base who meant her harm, she would _still_ be perfectly secure. Poe and Finn are strong and fast and terrifyingly devoted to her - it shines out of them when she looks at them in the Force, their love brighter than the sun at midday on Jakku - and Rey basks in their love and loyalty as blissfully as she does her bath.

Only when she is completely calm again, all her battle-rage and sorrow and frustration gone into the Force, does she open her eyes and blink at the dimly-lit room and move to scrub down her body, dunk her head under and rinse out her hair and douse it in the vanilla-scented shampoo that was one of Poe’s frequent gifts to her (she loves the smell, it makes her feel warm and adored) and then, as the water cools, slip out of the bath and dry herself with an enormous towel and wrap herself up in the warm, infinitely soft robe that Finn brought her from a planet whose name she’s forgotten - it feels like a cloud ought to feel, so soft she sometimes falls asleep stroking it. And then she goes to the door and opens it, and lets her lovers catch her up in their arms and hold her, Finn’s face nuzzled into her hair and Poe brushing gentle kisses over her forehead and cheeks and nose.

Finn carries her back to their bedroom, Poe trotting beside them with Rey’s weapons and clothing piled in his arms, tucks her into their bed and curls around her while Poe arranges all her things just the way she likes them, on the shelves where she can see them if she wakes in the night, and then joins them to make a warm cocoon, stroking her robe’s soft fabric and grinning when she pulls him close. “Want to talk about it?” Finn asks quietly, arm a warm band around her stomach, holding her in place but so gentle she knows she could escape it any time she wanted to.

“Another Knight of Ren,” Rey says, shrugging. “Kylo’s still too scared to face me, so he sends his bootlickers. The Stormtroopers took him home in pieces.”

“Our fierce Jedi,” Poe says, kissing the tip of her nose. “Kylo Ren’s going to run out of Knights at some point.”

“And then he’ll _have_ to face me,” Rey agrees, grinning. “Would you like me to bring you his head?”

“Dearest,” Poe says, laughing, “I don’t want a severed head.”

Finn chuckles into her hair. “All the _best_ girlfriends bring their lovers severed heads,” he says merrily. “It’s the gift that really shows they care!”

“You’ve been watching Jess’ romcoms again,” Poe grumbles, and Rey giggles at him and pulls him into a kiss, biting at his lips until he moans and shivers against her.

And this - this is what she wants, this _joy_ that her lovers are radiating. Nothing could be farther from the sickening hatred with which the Knights of Ren confront her, the fear she feels from the Stormtroopers when they see her, the apprehension that even some of her own allies cannot suppress when she comes bloody and triumphant from the battlefield. These men, though, do not fear her, though they know she is deadly - acknowledge it openly, jest about it - they do not worry that she might turn against them. They glory in her company, desire her wholeheartedly, not only her body - and she knows that many people find her beautiful - but her mind, her heart, her power, her soul. The man who came back for her and the man who named him, these two beautiful sweet men who adore her in every particular: they are the final antidote for the sickness of war. Their joy and love and pleasure sweep away the last vestiges of pain and fear and sorrow, leave her feeling so light she could fly without a ship under her, so happy she could cry.

She curls herself into their arms, warm in the robe Finn bought her, smelling the sweet vanilla of the shampoo Poe brought her, and pulls first one and then the other into deep, perfect kisses until the weariness of her body bears her down into sleep, knowing that her beloveds will watch over her.


End file.
